


The Herald of Regret and Renewal

by Exposedma



Series: The Herald of... [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Miscarriage, attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 21:28:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3264947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exposedma/pseuds/Exposedma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabel is waiting to wake up, they've given her a sword and the title Inquisitor, but she can't help feeling this is all wrong.  She is not the hero they think she is, she only has a knack for surviving, she's a coward.  She should not be here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Herald of Regret and Renewal

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: mentions miscarriage and attempted suicide. Nothing explicit.

Cullen surveyed the fortress they had come upon thanks to Solas’ guidance. Even in its dilapidated state Skyhold was intimidating. It was an impossible place, yet they found it unoccupied and undisturbed save for the effects of time. Isabel was walking the ramparts with the great sword that had been given to her, a symbol of her title and rank, she seemed more preoccupied with the blade then the vistas surrounding her. She still wore a bandage around her head, a reminder of how close she had come to death. She had fought them on being named inquisitor and the responsibility weighed on her. 

Cullen had been working with his men sending scouting parties and establishing patrols. He kept glancing to see her pacing and swinging her sword in slow arcs. He wanted to go talk to her, see how she was coping, they hadn’t spoken much since arriving as the demands of establishing Skyhold took priority. Every time he made up his mind to go see her, another scout or report arrived. When finally given the opportunity to get away, she was no longer on the battlements. He sighed heavily and returned to his work turning his attention to a recently arrived report, later, he would find her later. 

Isabel always thought better when she was doing drills, and so she swung the ornate ceremonial sword and paced. It was surprisingly balanced for such a detailed hilt, it was a stunning piece, she was still having a hard time believing this was her new reality that the great sword was hers, this keep and the people in it hers to command. She swung the sword to keep the bile from rising and the suffocating panic at bay. This was wrong, she was wrong, everything was wrong, yet she seemed to be the only one harboring these doubts.   
She wandered down the ramparts handing the sword to a squire, she was lost in her own thoughts when she found herself in the war room in front of the massive wooden war table. She rolled out the maps of Ferelden and Orlais, finding Ostwick in the northern corner of the Ferelden map, dragging her fingers to all the places she’s been. She glanced up when the heavy doors opened. 

“Inquisitor.” Cullen looked up from the report he had been reading that he wanted to discuss at the next war council. It didn’t escape his notice when she winced when he called her by her title. 

“I don’t know which is worse, Herald of Andraste or Inquisitor. Please Cullen, just Isabel.” She gave him a sardonic grin, turning to lean against the table and face him.

“Are they really that bad?” Cullen asked leaning on the table as she did, placing his report next to him. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just that…the mountain fell on my head, yet it feels like it’s everyone else who’s lost their senses.” She looked down at her feet, unable to meet his eyes. 

Cullen chuckled and glanced over at her, she was biting her lip and picking at her fingers. She kept her left hand bandaged so as not to cast its green light everywhere she went. Trying to hide what she was, wanting nothing more than to be accepted as just another member of the inquisition, just a soldier, not anyone special. It did her credit and endeared the masses to her but try as she might she was charismatic in her own quiet way. When she spoke she chose her words carefully and when others spoke she listened so that the other truly felt heard, Cullen knew in his heart that she was the right choice to lead them. 

“You give yourself too little credit.” He crossed his arms and nudged her gently with the side of his body and she looked at him with an unsure and small smile.   
He’s warm, even with his armor, she could feel his body heat beside her, heavy, sturdy he was a rock and she was glad for his company. She looked over to him through her lashes, and crossed her own arms in front of her chest, mimicking him. 

“I was supposed to be a Grey Warden by now, given I survived the joining. I sent a bird to Weisshaupt nearly six months ago now, wondering what my next step was in becoming a Warden, if there were any recruiters nearby. They never replied. My brother Marcus asked me to accompany him to the conclave as a distraction from the wait.” She shook her head, the Maker clearly hadn’t finished punishing her. 

“Given what we now know about the Wardens, I can’t say I’m disappointed you didn’t join.” Cullen furrowed his brows, remembering how easily she had accepted her role as sacrifice back at Haven, wanting to join the Grey Wardens, it sent an unpleasant chill down his spine. “Why a Warden?” 

Isabel licked her lips several times and cleared her throat trying to put the right words together, her reasons were painful, and a source of shame. “When I returned to Ostwick , during the Blight, I wasn’t in the best state of mind.” A hand slid over her stomach. “I’d lost Mathias, but worse than that…I was pregnant…I lost the baby on the journey.” She coughed and pushed off the table, looking out the large window in the room. “I…tried taking my own life.” She turned her back on him completely. 

Cullen understood, he knew what it meant to feel like there was no way out of the horror of his own life. On some of his worse days, when the Lyrium withdrawals left him a husk of a man he often thought death was preferable to the pain and memories, willpower and Cassandra’s support kept him moving forward, Maker he understood what it was like to want to die. His heart went to her, he remembered hearing similar tales in Kirkwall from Ferelden refugees. The toll the Blight had taken on its people had been high. 

“I’m sorry.” He wanted to tell her about his own failings, let her know she wasn’t alone. He wanted to touch her and see her shoulders relax, to let her know that he didn’t judge her for having felt like there was only one way out of her pain, but the words caught in his mouth.

“My Father took me to the training yard after I recovered, he put a sword and a shield in my hands and told me, if you are so determined to die, girl, let your life mean something.” She turned back towards Cullen, crooked grin on her face. “He promised me that once I could best him and my brothers in single combat, he would send the bird to Weisshaupt himself. If anything it gave me purpose, which was the whole point I suppose, it kept me alive.” 

“Smart man.” He murmured quietly.

Something in the way he spoke to her gave Isabel pause, she met his eyes and saw her own pain reflected back at her, a deep wound and she wondered what Cullen’s demons were. She felt foolish, selfish, of course she wasn’t the only one with hurt and pain in her past. The silence dragged on, the air between them heavy with the unspoken, she could hear how the air was inhaled through his nose, slow and steady, thoughts working in his mind. Isabel felt a blush creeping up her neck under his gaze.

“In any case, it hardly matters anymore.” She waved a hand dismissively, heading towards the heavy double doors. 

“Don’t…it matters, you matter. Thank you Isabel, for sharing this with me, and for trusting me.” He had been so close to telling her about how he no longer took Lyrium, the effects, how he struggled, about Kinloch Hold and his own past but the words wouldn’t come. He wasn’t sure how he had earned her trust and vulnerability, but he wouldn’t betray her. Cullen hadn’t realized he had closed the distance between them when he spoke, he was holding her upper arm, the muscle was hard under his grasp, her pale eyes were large, lips slightly parted in surprise, and he found his mind drifting, entirely too fascinated by how her tongue darted out to wet her lips. 

“Cullen, I…I’ll do my best to make sure your faith in me isn’t misplaced.” She waited for him to release her, not really minding him touching her, but not knowing how to tell him that it was okay, wanting to step into him, instead of away. 

“I’m sorry.” He let go and rubbed the back of his neck clearing his throat

“It’s fine.” She mumbled below her lashes. She took a deep breath before smiling brightly at him, “One thing I can tell you about making me Inquisitor, the lot of you just made your jobs infinitely harder, because I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Cullen chuckled under his breath opening the door and waiting for her to pass through, “I’m sure we’ll muddle through.”

“Watch out Corypheus, the Inquisition will muddle you to death!” Isabel declared dramatically, Cullen’s chuckle turned into a laugh. 

Cullen cocked his elbow out, inviting her to take it and Isabel slipped her hand through, resting her hand in the crook. The walked in companionable silence, and for the first time since she fell out of the fade Isabel believed they might actually be able to win.


End file.
